


what's a nice place like you doing in a girl like this?

by AvaRosier



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, sort of a The Mummy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 18:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13932618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: The Fishwifewas a much rougher place than Sansa had anticipated. White Harbor was the most populous and cosmopolitan city in the dominion of the North, and Sansa's wardrobe contained a mix of lovelier, fussier silks as well as more sensible, plain dresses made of cotton or wool. She did not think she owned the kind of dress needed in order to fit in at this particular pub. Her sister would pitch a fit if she found out Sansa had come here tonight- never mind that it had been Arya herself who had been here the other night when she stole the puzzle box.So when Sansa had figured out the secret map contained within the puzzle box, this beautiful six-sided work forged in Valyrian steel, her sister's face had lit up at the prospect of adventures and treasure.  How could Sansa pass up an opportunity to not only bond with her sister, but to also figure out why she was having such intense, peculiar dreams about Winterfell? If only her boss, Mr. Rayder hadn't accidentally dropped part of the paper against an open flame!(for the drabble fest, day one: Winterfell)





	what's a nice place like you doing in a girl like this?

The interior of the pub was dim and smoky enough that she couldn't suppress a cough. The stony-faced bartender gave her an once-over that made her skin crawl but answered her request easily enough. “The only Jon Snow I know of in this place is the one sulking at the corner table there,” he jerked a ruddy chin towards the back, using a dishrag to dry a hopelessly cloudy glass. Sansa thanked him and made her way towards the table the bartender had described.

This Jon Snow certainly looked like he had seen more than enough of the world and was done with it all. He slouched so low in his seat that his trousers stretched tight over his knees. His beard was in desperate need of a trim and from what she could see of the dark brown curls under his cap, so did his hair. A rumpled shirt, sleeves rolled up over his elbows, and suspenders completed the picture. Sansa thought the amount of chest hair visible above his open collar was...was quite unseemly.

He seemed to scowl at every patron as his eyes roved over the crowds. When those dark eyes landed on her, Sansa gulped. She froze in place, just two feet from his table and clutched the handle of her purse tighter. She watched his face go slack in surprise for a fraction of a second before he schooled his expression once again. _You are a Stark_ , she reminded herself. _You can be brave_.

“Mr. Snow?”

“Who's asking?”

“Mrs. Harrold Hardyng,” she answered by force of habit before wincing. “Sansa.”

“I'd say 'pleased to meet you', Mrs. Hardyng, but I still don't have the faintest idea who you are,” Jon murmured.

Not wanting to draw more attention to herself, she slid into the booth until she was next to him. “I believe you met my sister the other night when she stole a puzzle box from you.”

That got her a hard stare. “So that's where that thing disappeared to. Have you come to return it to me with an apology?”

“Well, no.” Jon's eyebrows rose. “An apology, yes, but I wondered at your claim to have actually been to Winterfell. You see, the map was damaged and my sister and I need a guide, so-”

“No.” He drank deeply.

“You haven't even heard ho-”

“No, and I don't need to.” He turned and leaned across the table until his face was close to hers. “Look, lady, the last time I was in that place, I lost a lot of good men, good Rangers. Winterfell is guarded by Free Folk and somehow I don't think they're the worst thing living in that ruin.”

“I can pay you.”

That gave him pause. “How much?”

“350.”

“500.”

“425 and not a stag more.”

“Let's say I'm willing to do this for you-”

 

**Author's Note:**

> yes i'm cheating by dumping a hundred words into the summary don't @ me.


End file.
